Trapped in a Curse
by Bluelazor
Summary: Originally Sherlock was going to be the sheriff of Storybrooke in OUaT, but they changed it to Graham due to problems getting the rights to do so. This is how I think it would pan out if they got to do their original idea. Yes, it is in Sherlock's point of view.
1. Bored

Andrew sighed as he stared up at the ceiling, his long legs dangling over the edge of the small couch. Carefully he placed a Nicotine patch on his left arm, it was all he could do to keep himself from going mad. He had no idea that he didn't belong in this little town, or even this world, neither did he know that his real name was Sherlock Holmes and he was once a great detective with piles of interesting cases to solve with his right-hand man, John Watson. The only thing he knew was that he was sheriff of this small town known as Storybrooke, his name was Andrew Smith, and nothing interesting ever happened here. This life was very dull and boring. Little did he know that the mayor's son, Henry, was going to run away and bring someone with him when he returned, that someone would shake things up for everyone.

_The streets were deserted, all of the stores were closed, and everyone was at the Royal Wedding between Snow White and James. Almost everyone was there. Two men walked down the dirt street alone, one was tall, thin, with pale blue eyes and a perfectly carved jaw, which held up a pipe in his mouth; the other was shorter, thin, and had his hands in his pockets as his blue eyes looked around the vacant street._

"_Sherlock?" The shorter man spoke up after a few moments, getting little response from Sherlock. "Don't you think we should be at the wedding? Nothing's going on out here, everyone else is at the wedding."_

"_If I thought we should be there, we would already be there by now," Sherlock calmly replied as he exhaled, sending smoke in a perfect circle away from him, "cheer up, Dr. Watson, you'll see something interesting soon."_

"_Now I'm worried, your idea of 'interesting' is never good."_

_The two men stopped as a third stepped out of an alleyway._

"_Perfect place for a meeting, everyone's so busy with the wedding," the stranger smiled at Sherlock and then looked at Watson, "and look! You brought your little pet with you."_

"_James Moriarty, how good of you to join us," Sherlock commented, ignoring the fact that Moriarty just called Watson his pet. Again._

Andrew looked over at the wall across the room from him, a plain white wall, the only thing that made it remotely fascinating was the smiley face he had painted on it with yellow spray paint. Light suddenly shined on the wall as a car pulled up into the parking lot, it was Graham. The deputy finally finished his nightly drive through the town. Another dull task assigned to the police department. Andrew found little point in it, nothing ever happened. Calmly Andrew reached down and picked his gun up from the ground as the car lights shut off. Right as he heard Graham close the door, he raised the gun at the wall and fired, after releasing another shot that landed only a centimeter away from the first hole, Andrew stopped and listened to Graham's footsteps race into the building.

"What are you doing?" Graham practically shouted.

"Bored," Andrew responded.

"What?"

"Bored!" Andrew repeated, this time more agitated as he got up on his feet and fired at the wall three more times. "Bored, bored, bored!" He sluggishly walked over to the wall to investigate his handiwork, all five holes were mere centimeters away from each other. "Nothing's going on. No interesting cases. No missing people, no runaways, no murders, not even a decent robbery."

"So you're taking it out on the wall?" Graham asked, calming down as he took the gun away from Andrew. It wasn't anything serious, just another evening with a bored Andrew.

"Didn't meet with the mayor, I see," Andrew ran his fingers over the wall, "such a shame, would have given me more time to practice my aiming." Graham merely rolled his eyes, another night where Andrew analyzes how his day went just because there's nothing more exciting to do.

"_To be quite honest," Moriarty spoke up, once more stating his own opinions that no one present cared to hear, "this place was much better under Regina's rule. I could do so much more under her rule, she was so obsessed with getting Snow that she paid little attention to me. My business boomed under her, it'll take a long time for the love birds to tear me down."_

"_Are you done?" Watson finally snapped._

"_Oh no, I've only just started," Moriarty smirked, "care to join me in a walk, Sherlock?"_

"_Alright," Sherlock answered after exhaling more smoke out of his pipe. The two began to walk, but both stopped and looked over John whom began to follow them._

"_I believe I requested only Sherlock's company, run along to the wedding."_

_John glared at Moriarty._

"_Go on, John. It'll be alright," Sherlock stated in an eerily calm tone. John was about to open his mouth to say something when he decided to close it and leave, trusting Sherlock. The two men continued in their stroll down the empty street._

"_So where have you been? I've been so lonely without my playmate," Moriarty glanced over at Sherlock, his slick, black hair glistening in the sunlight._

"_A case pulled me away to a distant village," Sherlock answered, "there's really no point in acting like you didn't know. I already know everything. I know how you used Miss Adler to cause a commotion, so I'd be lured far away, while you ran around here and ruined my reputation. I returned to find everyone believes me to be a fraud."_

"_Oh that's just the start," Moriarty replied as they walked up the stairs on the side of the kingdom's walls, "if I remember correctly, you were the one who put the pieces together and told everyone that the strange genie killed King Leopold with the Agrabahn vipers. While it's obvious that the involvement you had in it was solving the case, they're starting to believe that you may have worked behind the scenes. That it was you who really wanted the king gone, just to make yourself look better. How sad."_

"_Yes, but you're forgetting that I have information on you. After quite a few encounters with Miss Adler, she was willing to hand over some letters from you that would reveal to everyone who you really are. Once they see it, they'll disregard anything you've said about me while I was gone, despite any form of proof you possess."_

"_But not fast enough, I'm afraid. The lovely couple will have you executed before they even consider looking over those letters. Plus, they're from a very unreliable source. However clever Miss Adler is, she is notorious for back stabbing, so they're not going to pay attention to anything that's come from her."_

"_I have my doubts that that would be the case."_

"_You lost, Sherlock. I've brought out so much evidence to support my statement that everyone completely believes it. I even got to supervise as they dug your grave as they waited for you to return."_

_Sherlock stopped walking and looked over the edge of the wall. It was clear just what Moriarty wanted: A long fall._

"What did you do to that wall?" Regina fumed.

"I was bored," Andrew calmly replied, looking over the mayor, he soon smiled, "but it seems my boredom is coming to an end."

"Well, at least someone could take pleasure in it."

"In what?" Graham piped in, completely lost.

"My son is missing," Regina snapped.

"Finally! Something interesting is happening!" Andrew rejoiced as he grabbed his gear.

"Oh yes, my son is missing and you have the indecency to take pleasure in it."

"Who cares about decency? The game, Madame Mayor, is on!"


	2. The Fall

_The bells chimed, their song rang across the city as two men stood on the kingdom's wall._

"_Just jump already, you know you lost. Just jump, for me, please!" Moriarty impatiently tried to persuade Sherlock. Sherlock snatched Moriarty and held him over the edge of the wall._

"_You're insane," Sherlock snarled at his nemesis._

"_You're just getting that now?" Moriarty's arms swung around in circles as Sherlock shook him. "Alright, how about a little incentive? Your friends will die if you don't."_

"_John?"_

"_Not just John, everyone."_

"_Lestrade?"_

"_Everyone."_

"_Mrs. Hudson?"_

"_Three archers, three arrows, three victims. There's no stopping them now... Except for you jumping."_

_Sherlock set Moriarty back on the wall and stared into the distance, thinking._

"_Oh look," Moriarty smiled as he watched people walk out of the castle, "it seems you'll be gaining an audience soon."_

"Now, Regina, when was the last time you saw him?" Andrew inquired, his pale blue eyes staring straight into Regina's brown eyes.

"Just after dinner," Regina answered, "we did the dishes and then he went up to his room to do his homework. I checked on him an hour later and he was gone."

"I'll need a look at his room."

"Of course."

"Come along, Graham!" Andrew smiled as he walked out of the department, "we finally have a case."

"_You can torture me, kill me, whatever you want with me, but it won't stop them from releasing those arrows. Your only three friends in the world will die unless -"_

"_Unless I kill myself," Sherlock finished Moriarty's sentence, "complete your story... And I die a disgrace."_

"_Well, of course," Moriarty responded, "that's the point of this." He smiled as Sherlock stepped closer to the edge, "I told you how this ends. Your death is the only thing that's going to call off the killers, I'm certainly not going to do it."_

_Sherlock paused in thought as he looked over the crowd now forming beneath him. Slowly a smile formed across his face as he began to laugh._

"_What? What is it? What did I miss?" Moriarty impatiently asked. Sherlock turned to look at Moriarty._

"_You're not going to do it? So the killers can be called off then, there's a recall code, or a pattern. I don't have to die if I've got you," Sherlock circled around Moriarty like a hawk around a corpse._

"_Oh. You think you could make me give the order? You think you could make me do that?"_

"_Yes, so do you."_

"_Sherlock, your big brother and all the king's horses couldn't make me do a thing if I didn't want to do it already."_

"_Yes, but I'm not my brother, remember? I am you. Prepare to do anything. Prepare to burn. Prepare to do what others won't do. You want me to shake hands with you in hell, I will not disappoint you."_

"_No, you talk big, but you're just words. You're ordinary, you're on the side of the fairies."_

"_I may be on the side of the fairies, but don't think for one second that I am one of them."_

"_No, you're not," Moriarty spoke up after a few moments of silent thinking, "I see, you're not ordinary. You're me. You're me! Thank you!" Moriarty shook Sherlock's hand, "bless you, Sherlock Holmes. As long as I'm alive, you can save your friends. Well good luck with that." Moriarty quickly pulled out a knife and stabbed himself in the heart. Sherlock jumped back in shock as Moriarty's bleeding corpse fell down onto the stone wall, the right arm dangled over the edge as the hand released the knife and it fell down to the grassy clearing below. Staring at the corpse at his feet, the clever detective soon realized what he had to do. He had to save his friends. He had to fall._

Andrew paced around Henry's room, paying close attention to every little detail. The blue walls, the indentation in the carpet from a backpack, the empty slot in a book shelf.

"Are you missing any food?" The sheriff questioned as he scanned over the carpet where the backpack was.

"No, not even a granola bar," Regina answered, trying very hard to remain calm and to not snap at Andrew again.

"It's going to be alright, Regina," Graham put an arm around Regina in attempts to comfort her, "we'll find him."

"Of course you will."

"What book did Henry keep right here?" Andrew pointed at the empty spot on the shelf.

"It was... hm... I don't know," Regina looked at Andrew in confusion.

"Graham, stay with Regina. I'm going to take a look around town," Andrew ordered his deputy as he left the room. Already the excitement wore off, he knew Henry ran away and that he had every intention of returning. Why did he run? Where did he run off to? Which book did he take with him? Obviously it was important, all the other books were left behind and his backpack isn't that big. Out of all of the books he could have taken with him, why did Henry take that particular book? Getting into the police car, Andrew smiled to himself as he put the key in the ignition and turned it. With every question the excitement was returning.

"Perhaps I'll buy him some coco when he gets back, this is the best thing he's ever done," Andrew commented as he began his search around Storybrooke for the ten year old boy.

"_Sherlock!" A voice shouted over the crowd at Sherlock as he stood at the edge of the wall. He recognized that voice instantly, it was John. The archer is probably watching both of them, ready to kill John on the spot if Sherlock stepped down. It's now or never._

"_Forgive me, John," Sherlock sighed as he leaned forward and fell off the wall. The wind rushed past him as his arms swung instinctively in a circle as he fell. This is the end. A loud thud silenced the crowd. John stood there, frozen, in shock from what he just saw. When it sunk in, he knew what he needed to do. He had to get to Sherlock. Weaving through the crowd, he hastily reached his fallen friend and stared at the still body before him. A rock was covered in blood, John turned the body over and stared at it. He felt cold, every minute seemed like an hour. He wept as he shook the body._

"_Please, Sherlock, wake up!" John shouted, "wake up!" Sherlock didn't move, he just laid in John's arms like a raggedy doll. This had to be a nightmare, it couldn't possibly be real. The crowd gently prodded Sherlock away from John, an arm wrapped around him. This wasn't a dream._

_Sherlock is dead._

Andrew stared into the night as he drove. There wasn't any other clues on Henry's whereabouts, not even the sign gave him any clues. He was just about to get out of the car and cross the town border when the radio went off.

"Henry's back," Graham's voice came through the radio, "a stranger named Emma brought him back."

"What happened?" Andrew asked, trying very hard not to sound agitated.

"Apparently he ran off to Boston and found Emma. He convinced her to take him home."

Something wasn't right. It still bothered him. Why did Henry go through all the trouble of running away to Boston just to convince a stranger to take him home? Only Henry could answer that. Andrew turned the car around and returned to Regina's house. Finally something new to do.

_John stood before a gravestone with the name "Sherlock Holmes" engraved in it. It still seemed so unreal. How could his best friend be dead? How could he take his own life?_

"_Please, just one more miracle, Sherlock. One more, for me," John shakily begged, staring at the grave. "Don't be dead. Would you do that just for me? Just stop it, stop this." Rubbing his eyes, he worked hard to fight back the tears. He knew it would never happen, nothing would bring Sherlock back entirely. His best friend was gone. Straightening himself up, he walked away from the grave like a brave soldier marching from a battlefield._

_From the shade of trees, Sherlock stood in silence as he watched John walk away. This is the end._


	3. Emma

The front lights reflected off of the yellow Volkswagen Bug parked just in front of it. It was different and intriguing with its Massachusetts license plate with the number "835-M4X" engraved in bold, red letters. Andrew knew instantly who it belonged to; the new girl, the one Henry brought back from Boston. Emma. He turned off his police car and stepped out and inspected the new vehicle more closely. Through the window he found a box of items inside, an item at the top was a white, hand-knitted blanket with the name Emma stitched into one of the corners. Going for an eight hour drive to return a ten year old boy to his mother and made sure to pack that, she has trust issues. Why else pack that for a simple drive instead of just leaving it at home behind locked doors? If that is the case, then why did she pack only that? Unless she isn't one to pack a lot, a light traveler. From the looks of her tires, it was obvious that she did a lot of driving. What for? What could cause someone to do a lot of traveling? Taking cargo from one place to another would require something a lot bigger than a Bug, traveling for the fun of it was out of the question (no one could travel that much without getting paid). Of course, it's obvious, she's a bail bonds-person. She's paid to travel the country in pursuit of fugitives. Judging by the fact that one of the few items she packed was a baby blanket, she clearly became a bails bonds-person because there was only two people she really wanted to find: her parents. They must have abandoned her when she was a baby, leaving only the blanket for a clue. There's a very high probability that she's a loner, independent type of person, most people in that sort of situation become that type of person. Andrew proceeded to look at the front seat. Henry took the front, passenger seat and left a storybook on the seat. That was the book missing from the shelf. Out of all of the books, why did he take a book of fairy tales? What was so important about fairy tales? Andrew couldn't figure it out and it bothered him. Silently he beat himself up in his mind. How could he be so bored when a mystery was right under his nose the entire time? In attempts to make himself feel better, he moved on to the driver's seat. Emma was one point six meters tall, judging by the distance between the seat and the pedals. By the indentations in the steering wheel, Andrew could tell she was rather annoyed about having to come here in the first place. From all he gathered, he could tell she wasn't one to give up easily, so Henry would have had to work hard to get her to come. Why was it so important for him to get her to Storybrooke, Maine? Why specifically Emma? Deciding that the only option left for solving this was to meet Emma in person, Andrew left the cars alone and entered the mayor's house.

"Can't you knock?" Regina snapped at Andrew as he walked into the house unannounced.

"I can, I just choose not to," he calmly replied as he eyed the new face. She had long, blonde hair that was in almost perfect curls at the bottom, the drive must have diminished some of the curls. Probably got home from a date that didn't end well, considering she was very annoyed on the drive here. A request from a ten year old wouldn't get someone like this on edge, not unless something happened before they showed up. Her combo of a red jacket, jeans, and boots indicated that she was more of a tom-boy than a girly-girl. Her favorite color was probably red, there were still signs of red lipstick on her lips, probably something she put on for the date that didn't end well. Most likely she wore a red dress on that date. Andrew merely smiled and reached his hand out to her, "you must be Emma. I'm Andrew."

"Yeah," Emma replied as she shook his hand, "nice to meet you." Clearly she's not a social butterfly, definitely the type of person to get directly in your face when you get on her nerves. He liked her already and wished she would stay, just because he knew she'd make things more interesting around here. Looking more closely at her jeans, he instantly figured it out. Emma is Henry's birth mother, he must have figured out who she was and where she would be. Clever boy.

"Madame Mayor," Graham declared as he walked down the stairs, "you can relax. Other than being a tired, little boy, he's fine."

"Thank you, deputy," Regina gratefully responded and then glanced at Andrew, "and sheriff." Andrew and Graham took it as their cue to leave.

_Sherlock sat on his throne, smoking his pipe, not speaking a word. It had been three days since John heard a single word from his friend._

"_What is it?" John finally asked as he handed Sherlock a cup of tea, "You haven't spoken for days. What's bothering you? It couldn't possibly be Irene, you were a chatter-box on the way home."_

"_I need a walk," Sherlock responded, slightly relieving John. He set the cup of tea on the table and stood up, putting his coat and scarf on, "thank you for the tea."_

"_Anytime," was all John could say, he was too startled and confused by Sherlock's sudden decision to go for a walk._

_Sherlock walked outside and into the busy streets of the city, keeping his head down, and his deer stalker hat on his head. It was time to think. Moriarty was on the move, obsessed with this thing he called "a game." What was his goal? What did he want? It was only until he stepped out of the city walls did he realize what it was. Sherlock's death. He was going to die. There had to be a way out of it, someway he could survive but temporarily look dead. What could he do? He relaxed as an idea popped into his head._

"So you're Henry's mother," Andrew could hear Marco's voice down the hall as he decided what he wanted out of the vending machine this time, "how nice for him to have you back in his life."

"Actually, I was just dropping him off," Emma's voice responded. Andrew frowned, she's not staying and making things more exciting for him. Graham walked past Andrew and discreetly took the keys off of his belt.

"You know, stealing is a crime," Andrew stated, his eyes not moving from the selection of chips.

"Still can't get away with it," Graham sighed, "mind if I let Leeroy out?"

"Not at all, his pointless remarks are getting on my nerves."

"Don't blame ya," Leeroy sneered, already annoying Andrew all over again, "they're all brats. Who needs them?"

"Well I'd give anything for one," Marco replied in every child's defense, even though none were present (another endeavor Andrew found pointless), "my wife and I, we tried for many years, but uh, it was not meant to be."

"Well cry me a river."

Andrew purchased a bag of Cheetos and entered the main room with Graham. Plopping down on the couch, he popped open the bag and began to eat one chip at a time as he observed the scene before him.

"Leeroy," Graham interrupted the conversation as he walked over to Leeroy's cell, "I'm going to let you out, but you need to behave." With the screech of the metal hinges swinging the cell door open, Graham continued as Leeroy exited the cell, "give me a smile, and stay out of trouble." Leeroy gave Graham an obviously fake smile before exiting the building nonchalantly.

"Seriously?" Emma spoke up, a little annoyed that she was still behind bars.

"Apparently, Regina's drinks are stronger than we thought," Graham explained, giving Emma a rather apologetic look. Andrew watched Graham and soon came to the conclusion that Graham liked Emma a lot more than he did.

"I wasn't drunk, there was a wolf in the middle of the road."

"A wolf?" Andrew jumped into the conversation, disappointed in the fact his bag was already empty, "we don't have wolves in Storybrooke."

"Sheriff," Regina's panicking voice could be heard from the door as she hurried into the room.

"What now?" Andrew snapped at Regina.

"What is it, Madame Mayor?" Graham asked, trying to undo what Andrew already did with his rudeness.

"Henry's run away," Regina looked at Emma in surprise, "what is she doing here? Do you know where he is?"

"Lady, I haven't seen him since I dropped him off at your house and," Emma put her hands on the cold, metal bars, "I have a pretty good alibi."

"Yeah, well, he wasn't in his room this morning."

"Did you try his friends?"

"He doesn't really have any, he's kind of a loner."

"Every kid has friends."

Andrew watched Emma as her green eyes lost contact with Regina's as she spoke the last sentence. Instantly making theories and deducing, he came to the conclusion that Emma had been hurt in her life by more than just her parents abandoning her. There was more to her, a lot more.

"Did you check his computer?" Emma continued, returning her eye contact with Regina, "if he's close to someone, he'd be e-mailing them."

"And you know this how?" Regina impatiently asked.

"She's a bail bonds-person, finding people is what she does," Andrew answered for Emma.

"How did you know that?" Emma's gaze moved over to Andrew, a look of surprised confusion on her face.

"Your car," Andrew calmly answered, transferring his attention to the crumbs at the bottom of his bag. Henry is still in Storybrooke and Emma could find him, there was no further need for him to fret over it. He already knew Henry ran off to get Emma's attention again and would just escape again if Andrew or Graham found him. There was a few seconds of silence before Emma cleared her throat and broke the silence.

"Anyway, if you let me out, I'll help you find him."

"_Reul Ghorm," Sherlock called out in the darkness of the Enchanted Forest. At the sounds of little wings, he turned around to find a little fairy in front of him. She was wearing a blue gown with ribbons falling out of the bottom, making her look like a jelly fish, her brown hair was tied up in a large bun._

"_Sherlock?" Reul Ghorm smiled as she remained at eye level with the detective, "this is a surprise."_

"_I have a problem, the probability of me dying because of it is very high. Can you help me?"_

"_Of course," Reul Ghorm pulled out her wand and pointed it at Sherlock. Blue dust came out of the wand and spiraled around Sherlock, "with this enchantment, you can survive two fatal blows. You'll appear to be dead to anyone for as long as you need. To end the appearance of being dead all you have to do is wake up."_

"_Thank you."_

Andrew sat on a red stool at Granny's Diner, treating himself to a glass of scotch on rocks. Everyone couldn't shut up about Emma and how she returned Henry to Regina twice in twenty-four hours. It was annoying. They wouldn't leave Andrew alone, always asking questions that he knew didn't matter. What does she look like? Is the Bug hers? How much does Henry look like her? Where did she come from? What's her favorite color?

"Shut up!" Andrew finally snapped at the group around him. Immediately they all dispersed and returned to their daily routine. The bell rang as someone entered the diner, with just a glance Andrew figured out it was Henry with his book. Henry carefully climbed up the stool next to Andrew and sat down on it.

"Ruby, I need a hot chocolate with cinnamon for the little guy," Andrew demanded, taking advantage of the moment to treat Henry for giving him a rather exciting night. "Got your book back, I see."

"Yeah," Henry hesitantly answered as Ruby set the mug of hot chocolate in front of Henry, "thanks, Ruby." Looking over at Andrew with confusion, he asked what was on his mind, "how did you know about the book?"

"I saw it in Emma's car last night. Obviously you left it there on purpose,"Andrew answered as he took the final sip of scotch.

"How do you know that?"

"Out of all of the books in your room, you packed the biggest and heaviest one. Clearly it's important to you, so you wouldn't leave it anywhere on accident, which means your leaving it in her car was deliberate."

"Are you Sherlock Holmes?"

"No, I'm Andrew Smith."

"You sure about that?"

"Yes."

_Reul Gorhm flew over to Sherlock as he watched John leave the cemetery._

"_Shouldn't you tell him you're alive?" She politely asked._

"_If I thought that I should tell him, then I would have by now," Sherlock calmly replied as he lit his pipe._

"_While you were talking with Moriarty, there was something happening at the castle."_

"_Snow White and Prince James' wedding, I already know."_

"_Well, there was more than that. Regina appeared and threatened to take away everyone's happy endings. If she succeeds, then all will be lost. Shouldn't you and your friend be happy while you can?"_

_Sherlock fell silent, pondering on what Reul Gorhm told him. Finally he answered her question._

"_He'll be happy, he's very good at finding happiness."_


End file.
